Painted Angels - In My Life
by WinJennster
Summary: Nearly thirty years they've been married. Many storms they've weathered. But this may be Dean and Cas's biggest challenge yet.
1. There Are Places I Remember

_This is part of a three chapter piece that will post over the course of the next week. It's the final chapter of Dean and Cas's life in Painted Angels (no major deaths though, I promise). They are old men in their sixties with three adopted children; David, 41; Tiana, 25; and Mei, 22. Dean's health has taken a turn, and things in their lives are changing. I hope you enjoy. _

_This fic is dedicated to Rachel Miner._

* * *

Dean stood and stared into the empty space where his studio had once been. In his mind's eye, he could still see the massive Archangel canvases, leaning up against the back wall. He could still smell the linseed oil and turpentine, could still hear Zeppelin echoing off the walls. Could still smell that slight ozone-y smell the Impala gave off as her engine cooled.

"You ok?"

Dean twined his fingers into Cas's. "We'll see."

* * *

_Three months earlier…_

"…and eventually, you'll likely have trouble walking, relating to several factors including weakness, spasticity, loss of balance, sensory deficit and fatigue. I'd highly recommend moving to a home where everything is on one floor. It'll make things easier on you and your care team."

His husband didn't reply. Dean just continued to stare blankly out of the doctor's window.

"Dean?"

"I'm ok," he said softly.

The firehouse officially went on the market five days later.

* * *

Most of his art supplies had been donated to the Maryland Institute. They were more than happy to take them, and promised to distribute them to underprivileged students just as Dean had requested. He packed a small box with some sketch pads, graphite, pastels, water colors, and colored pencils. He'd do something as least, as long as his hands cooperated and he could keep the tremors at bay.

Sam flew in for a few weeks to help with the moving process. He, Benny, and Cas spent long days picking through forty years worth of life in the firehouse. Dean wanted to help, but his body refused him, and he ended up sitting on the couch for much of the packing process, sulking as he watched everyone work.

His and Cas's oldest, David, helped with the packing, and their daughters, Mei and Tiana, waited on him hand and foot, despite Dean's protestations. Elena, David's fiancé, carefully wrapped all of their breakables, handling them as if they were just as valuable to her.

The piano had been sold. Not like he'd be able to play it anyway.

Depression creeped in slowly. He'd made the firehouse his home for so long. He was used to her echoes and the temperamental furnace. He was used to his neighborhood – because it wasn't bad enough they were leaving the firehouse, no, Cas had found them a _perfect little ranch house_ in Harford County, a whole county away from the City.

"Dad," Tiana plopped onto the couch beside him. "Sulking does not look good on the over sixty crowd."

"Shut up."

"Seriously. It's not the end of the world and you've been getting progressively grumpier about the city for the last ten years. Papa found you guys such a nice place and we're going to make it so pretty."

"And I'm forty-five minutes from you and Mei, an hour and half from David and Elena -"

"Sulking. Totally sulking. You do realize Mei and I plan to come up every weekend? I'd miss Papa's cooking too much. Mei and I burn water." She reached over and took his hand, wrapping their fingers together. Dean smiled at the color contrast, his freckled peach tones against her flawless sepia, and she squeezed slightly. "You're going to be ok," she told him softly. "I promise you. We're all gonna take care of you, just like you always take care of us. I promise, Daddy. I promise."

…

Dean cried their last night in the firehouse. Cas knew he'd done his best to hold it back, to bury it, but alone in the echoing spaces, only their bed left unpacked, he couldn't keep it in.

"It's not a death sentence," Cas murmured, stroking his hand down Dean's back. "I'm not moving you up to the country to die."

"F-feels like a d-death sentence," Dean sobbed. "I'm g-going to become - become -" he hiccuped, "gonna become a b-burden."

"Sweetheart, listen to me and listen good. You will never, _ever_ be a burden to me. Do you understand?"

"Can't do this," Dean whispered.

"Yes, you can. Many, many people live full and satisfying lives with MS."

"I'll lose my painting -"

"Maybe, maybe not. You heard Dr. Ford."

"Yeah? Well what about when it starts killing my libido? Then what?" Dean's tone had taken on a bitter edge.

"Then I'll still love you. I'll still kiss you, and hold you, and nothing will have changed."

"Everything will c-change," Dean sniffled.

"Yes, things will change. But one thing will never change - and that's the way I feel about you. I will never stop loving you."

"What if I'm in a wheelchair?"

"Then you're in a wheelchair. I'll still love you."

Dean fell silent after that. His tears still dripped into hollow of Cas's collarbone, and an occasional sniffle broke the silence of their room, but he said nothing more.

Cas kissed his forehead and softly began to sing._ "There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed…"_

Somewhere around the last verse of the song, Dean dropped off, his breathing evening out as he fell asleep.

Cas laid awake for a long time.

* * *

Holding hands, they took one last walk through the firehouse.

Mei and Tiana's room, painted with a fairy tale woods theme when they were small. Every time Dean offered to do something new, both of them said no. He smiled at the pink fairy with the pale skin, black hair, and black eyes. Ran a finger down the dress of the yellow fairy, with smooth dark skin, cornrows, and soft brown eyes. His little girls. How could they be all grown up now?

There was Mei's name, painstakingly painted in Japanese characters above the space her bed had been. Tiana's, done in Japanese as well. Mei had done that. Mei was his artist. She'd sat at Dean's knee from the time they adopted her at two years old, watching him paint, childish imitation on her own canvasses. In time, she became fully possessed of her own talent. Mei was a portrait artist of the highest caliber, with an incredible knack for photo-realism that made her old man jealous.

The built in bookshelves in their room were empty; all of Tiana's books and medical texts moved to their new shared condo in the Inner Harbor. Tiana was done with med school, now a neurosurgery resident at Johns Hopkins. Two of his children were Hopkins alumnus, just like their Uncle Sam. Mei went to MICA, just like her Daddy, and was now working at the school as a Fine Arts professor.

David was a lawyer until he managed to get himself elected to the US Senate.

All three of his children were successful and brilliant, and he couldn't be more proud of them.

David's room had been empty for years, as the girls never wanted to seperate, but there were memories in there as well. It had been Dean's room once upon a time, back when he shared the firehouse with his brother and Cas. The walls were white and exposed brick, the windowsills dusty. For some reason, the closet door hanging open bothered him, and Dean crossed the floor to close it. Cas took his hand again when he was done.

Their room looked so strange, empty like that. The pale blue on the walls looked cold now. Dean felt a lump grow in his throat. How could a place that'd seen so much living look so empty?

Cas stepped further into the room and gazed out the window. He turned, arms wrapped around himself. "I was so happy in this room. But it wasn't the firehouse that made me happy - it was you. You made me happy. You still make me happy. Please tell me you understand that?"

Dean nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Walking back across the floor, Cas pulled him close and wrapped him in his arms. Dean laid his head on his shoulder and let the damn tears come anyway. "It's ok. Ssh, baby, it's ok," Cas soothed, combing his fingers through Dean's hair.

* * *

They closed the big doors for the last time and Dean looked up at the embossed BFD shield on the wall above the small middle door.

He stared up Remington Avenue, a pang in his chest as he looked at the shuttered Roadhouse. Benny said someone had finally bought it.

God, he missed Ellen and Bobby so much.

Nothing in Remington was the same. It'd been decades since Tessa died and Pamela left. Ash and Andy had gone their separate ways eight years ago; Ash moved out to Arizona somewhere, and Andy to Seattle. Jo lived in Florida with her husband, Inias, and their three kids. Sam and Gabe were in LA. Bobby had passed away three years prior; Ellen, four.

Benny was the only one left of their crowd, and he didn't live above his bar anymore. He and Andrea had a sweet little cottage out in the county, filled with cats, dogs, and five lovely teenaged daughters.

"Ain't gonna be the same 'round here," Benny said quietly, pulling Dean from his reverie. "Don't imagine I'll be too far behind, tho. 'Bout ready to sell this joint anyhow."

"Like the end of an era," Dean murmured.

"Yeah, well - I think it's been a long time comin', brotha."

"Guess so."

Benny wrapped Dean in his big arms, surprising him with a hug. "Don't mean we still can't get together on holidays, y'know? Nothin' really has to change."

"Everything's changing," Dean whispered.

"Not the important stuff. You remember that, now. You still got the real important things. Alrigh'?" Dean nodded. Benny squeezed him one last time and released him. "I'm expectin' you and Cas up the house two weekends from now. Fourth of July. Gonna do crabs. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

"Alrigh' then," he clapped Dean's shoulder, turned and pulled Cas into a hug. Dean heard the whispered _take care of our boy_ and Cas's affirmative.

"You ok?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that."

Sam chuckled. "We know you."

"M'fine. Let's do this."

Lorie, the realtor, pulled the _for sale_ sign off the firehouse. "So that's it," she said cheerfully. "All done."

Cas held the keys out and she took them. "Let's go. I'm already tired and we've got to unpack this moving van when we get up there." He pulled the passenger door of the Impala open and made to slide inside.

Looking down at his trembling hands, Dean sighed. "Think you better drive, Cas," he muttered.

"Ok." Cas kissed his cheek and took the keys from him.

"Alright, Gabe and I'll meet you up there. It's gonna take longer with the truck." Sam hugged Dean. "See you up there."

Gabe fired up the truck and pulled away from the firehouse, honking merrily. Lorie got in her car and left. Benny had already returned to the bar, and just Cas and Dean remained on the sidewalk out front.

"Ready?"

"No."

"Dean -"

"No, I mean, I'll go. It's time to go. But I just - this feels like an ending, Cas. I feel like - I feel like -" Dean's words caught in his throat. "I feel like I'm dying. I feel like I'm terminal and this is like - I dunno. Like my farewell show. And I fuckin' hate it."

"I don't know what else I have to do to convince you this isn't the end. I've shown you every bit of information I could find. This isn't a death sentence. It's not a terminal illness."

Holding up his hands, Dean glared at Cas. "I can't drive my car!"

"Today. You can't drive your car today."

"Dr. Ford said it's going to get worse. That the spasms are going to -"

"No! Stop it. I'm not going to let you drown yourself in pity. Get in the damn car!" Cas spun on his heel, clearly done with the conversation. He slammed the driver's door hard enough to make Dean wince, sympathy in his chest for his poor baby. She was over seventy after all, and it took almost as much to keep her running as it did him.

That thought actually made him chuckle. He smiled back up at the firehouse for a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thanks for everything."

* * *

Getting Dean settled into the new house was surprisingly difficult. Although there were things he seemed to like about it - like the airy sun porch where Cas and Sam had set up an art nook for him - Dean complained about most of it. He complained loud and often, and if Cas hadn't been very aware that it was Dean's way of trying to deal with the hand life dealt, he would have been damn near sick of him already.

"It's too new."

"It smells funny."

"It's too quiet up here."

"Too many trees."

"Where are the rest of the houses?"

"Did you move me up here so no one would hear me scream?"

"It's a goddamn mile to the mailbox."

"Not even a lousy Walmart nearby."

Several things made him at least a little happy.

"My baby has her own room."

"The natural light on this sunporch is awesome."

"Love this jacuzzi tub."

"We have a pool. That's kinda cool."

"So many stars, Cas," he murmured one night, as they lay curled together in a chaise. "I've never seen this many stars. So pretty."

Cas kissed his forehead. "It's lovely, isn't it?" He wasn't talking about the stars.

"Yeah," Dean said softly, curling in closer.

"I love you."

Dean didn't answer. His breathing was slow and even against Cas's neck. He'd drifted off to sleep, in the warm summer night as the stars twinkled above them.

Cas wondered if Dean felt half as content as he did.

* * *

Gardening became a thing. Cas spent hours researching which plants would be best, which would attract bees, which would attract hummingbirds. It hadn't taken long for him to notice that Dean seemed happiest out in the sun, and he was determined to make the garden as comfortable and inviting as possible.

They were fairly wealthy, although Cas wouldn't call them rich, but money wasn't really an object. He still received fairly regular royalty checks for the twenty plus books he'd managed to get into print, and Dean had sold a lot of paintings over the last several decades. They'd managed their money well, set aside funds for the kids' schooling early on, and hadn't gone into much debt getting three kids educated.

So if Cas popped into Lowe's a little more than he should, who cared?

The first thing he did was order an arbor. It was white, and big enough to put a table and several chairs under. He then trained bougainvilla to climb up the sides and across the open roof.

He bought a nice sized grill, and enlisted Benny to come up one weekend and help him build a firepit. He hired someone to do the maintenance on the pool and bought several nice chaises to station around it. A hammock was hung between two trees. Bee houses were stationed further from the house, and Cas researched bee care in the evenings.

Dean spent a lot of time either in the backyard or on the sunporch. On the days his spasms let him be, he often had a sketchbook in hand.

Currently, on a surprisingly mild late July afternoon, Dean was settled in a chair under the large pine closest to the house, sketchbook in hand. He seemed contemplative, staring out at the beehives on the edge of their large property. He had one pencil hanging from his mouth, another tucked behind his ear. Seemingly lost in thought, he didn't notice as Cas approached with a glass of iced tea.

"Hey," Cas said softly, sitting the glass on a table beside Dean. He leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

"I'm an old man," Dean informed him.

"Really? I hadn't realized."

"No, I mean - I just -" Dean sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do with it."

"Do with what?"

"The just - the oldness. I don't feel old, up here," he tapped at his head. "But my body is turning against me. And I was just sitting here and trying to draw. My hand started shaking. I can't - what is the point of me?"

Cas sat in the chair next to Dean and pulled his hand into his lap. He could feel the tremors running through his fingers and he stroked Dean's palm soothingly. "I love you. Maybe that's the point."

"Cas, you realize it's totally feasible you could be wiping my ass someday?"

"So?"

"You stupid son of a bitch," Dean muttered.

"I can't understand why you think this would bother me. Why I would mind caring for you? You're my whole world, in case you didn't notice." Cas couldn't help the thread of anger in his voice. "That's the point of you. You're mine. I love you. That's the goddamn point and you're the stupid son of a bitch." He ran his fingers up Dean's arm, tracing the lines of the flames tattooed there. "I get it. You think you're worthless, a burden. You're not. I'd rather have you here and have to take care of you than not have you at all."

"You say that now -"

"Jesus, Dean. I get it. I get that you're depressed. It's part and parcel of all this. But I will not let you doubt me. I've never let you down in the almost thirty years we've been married. I won't let you down now, and I am damn sick of you pulling this self deprecating bullshit of yours. You're not getting rid of me. Deal with it!"

Cas yanked himself out of the chair and stomped back into the house. He was pawing through the freezer for something make for dinner when arms wrapped around his waist. Dean didn't say anything, but when he lowered his head to Cas's shoulder, he felt the warm drip of tears.

"Dean, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I'm frustrated, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"Need to suck it up," Dean murmured. "I'm the one that should be apologizing."

"I know you're overwhelmed by all of this. We need to find you an outlet. Something that won't be affected by your bad days. I'll look into it, alright?"

Dean nodded against his neck.

"Alright then. Help me with dinner?"

* * *

So this was his life now. Get up every morning, force himself to eat something, check and see what his hands were going to do. If it was a good day, he'd help Cas in the garden, help fold laundry, maybe pull out his sketchbook and draw flowers or bees or whatever other shit he saw around him.

If it was a bad day - well, bad days happened. And Dean did his best to deal, but most bad days, he wanted to hide in his room and forget the world.

Cas's endless patience was wearing thin. Dean could see it. He didn't blame him. Dean was rapidly losing patience with himself. Most days he could at least pretend to keep his chin up - today wasn't one of those days. He'd woken up exhausted. A couple of bathroom trips were the only thing he'd gotten out of bed for, despite how nice it looked outside.

He could hear voices down the hall. Cas had visitors.

"Dad?" Squirming, he sat up in bed. Mei ducked her head in the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

"How are you feeling? Papa says you didn't want to get out of bed today."

"I'm just kinda tired."

"Don't you always feel better outside though? It's a beautiful day. Tiana and I were going to go up to the apple orchard in Delta and wanted to see if you and Papa wanted to come, too."

"I dunno. Think I better just stay here. Should take Cas though. He's been cooped up here with me and I know he needs to get out. Make him buy apples. Maybe I'll get a pie."

Mei frowned. "Daddy, you need to get out, too. Papa says you haven't left the house in two weeks."

"Easier at home, marshmallow. Can't stand the way people stare and shit."

"No one's staring."

"Yeah, they are. Especially when I have to use the damn cane. I can feel their eyes on me. It's unnerving - and demoralizing."

Pulling her long black ponytail over her shoulder, Mei started braiding the strands idly. "I dunno, Dad. I think you're making excuses. It's nice out - not too hot, and we could get ice cream. You should come."

"You should leave me alone," Dean shot back, regretting it instantly. Hurt was written all over his girl's face. "Oh, Mei, I'm -"

"Nope. Sit here and wallow. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself. We're taking Papa out for the day and you can sit here and be a jerk and I hope you think about how much you're hurting him right now." She yanked her body off the bed and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. They were gone before he managed to get himself together enough to get out of bed.

Cas hadn't even said goodbye.

Dean found a phone and stumbled slightly on his way out to the sun porch. He settled into a comfortable chair and dialed the number from memory.

"Hello?"

"Is Cas pissed at me?"

"Well hello to you too, Dean-o," Gabe said drily. "I'm fine, your brother is doing well, thanks for asking."

"Yeah, great. Is he upset with me?"

Gabe sighed. "What do you think?"

"Uhh -"

"Shut up. You wouldn't have called _me_ if you thought everything was fine."

"Yeah, I uh -"

"Yes. You're killing him. He's bending over backwards to make you comfortable and you just mope around like the world is ending."

"It feels like -"

"I know what it feels like. Shit, Dean, we all know what this is doing to you. But think about what's it's doing to him. I know you're not generally a selfish person, but you're being one right now. I know you're in pain. I know you're in an emotional black hole. And that's ok, but don't you dare drag him down with you. Because at the end of the day, if you fuck him up, who's going to put up with your bullshit?"

"Ouch," Dean said quietly.

"Yeah. Well, that's my little brother, ok? That's my version of Sam. So I'm allowed to be a jerk where he's concerned."

"Are you bitching at Dean? Give me that!" There was a slight scuffle on the other end, muffled arguing. "Yeah, go eat a pound of candy, you damn diabetic. See you in the ICU!" More muffled sounds. "Love you too," Sam said with a low chuckle. "Hey, Dean."

"Hey. That sounded good."

"Typical old married asshole argument. We're fine. Did he rip you a new one about Cas?"

"Kinda."

"Yeah, well, when Cas calls in tears at midnight, it's enough to get Gabe upset."

"Tears? Really?"

"Yeah. He thinks you're giving up, and he feels like if you're giving up, he might as well, too."

"Shit."

"Look, Dean, I get it. I'm not even prone to depression like you are, and if I was in your shoes, I'd be fucking depressed, too. But you have to keep on fighting. You have to keep your chin up. We all keep telling you over and over again that this isn't a death sentence. You have a lot of years left in you, and the best thing you could do for yourself is live them. Don't sit home and waste away. What is the point of that?"

"Sammy -"

"So you need a cane. Who fucking cares? You have grey hair and wrinkles -"

"Thanks, asshole -"

"People expect you to have a cane. 'Cause you're old and shit."

"Is this supposed to be making me feel better?"

Sam chuckled. "Makes me feel better."

"Haha. Very funny."

"Seriously, though," Sam said, voice taking on a softer tone, "you need to go easier on Cas. And you need to go easier on yourself."

"I hear you," Dean muttered around the lump in his throat.

"Do you really? Because I know you. I know how you like to beat the shit out of yourself. Have you talked to the therapist Dr. Ford recommended?"

"Don't need a head shrinker."

"Oh, please. What happened to all those years ago when you and Cas got back together and you made me go with you? Remember? Or when Dad died back in '19 and you dragged me to therapy again? And now it's all, I don't need a head shrinker," Sam mocked. "You're a damned idiot. I should fly out there. Straighten you out."

"Yeah, you should. Miss your ugly mug."

"Well, if I do, I'm dragging your ass to therapy this time. Capische?"

"Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever."

Dean smiled into the phone. "Heh."

"What?"

"Old men. Still brothers, though. Still argue like assholes."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me, neither."

"I'm looking at airline tickets now. I could come out Labor Day weekend. Stay a bit. Just me. Gabe's got Hollywood bullshit going on."

"Yeah, that'd be cool."

"Alright, then. Get one of your beautiful daughters to pick me up. I'd say the smart one, but that's both of them."

"Ain't that the damn truth."

"Dean. Take care of yourself, ok?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"Don't _yeah, yeah_ me. I mean it. This isn't the end of Dean Winchester -"

"Novak-Winchester."

"_Novak-Winchester_. Whatever. You've still got a lot of living in you. Don't spend it staring at the walls and losing your mind. Get up, do something - where is Cas, anyway?"

"Girls came and took him to an apple orchard up in Pennsylvania."

"Why didn't you go - nevermind. Well, get up, get moving. Do a load of dishes, throw some laundry in the washer. Do something. Surprise him with dinner, I dunno. Do something."

"I hear you."

"Ok. I'll see you in few weeks. Love ya, asshole."

"Bitch."

"Jer-," Sam chuckled. "Why haven't we outgrown that whole bitch/jerk thing?"

"Because I said so and I'm the oldest."

"You are old."

"Fuck you."

"Alright. Bye."

"Bye." Dean disconnected the phone and stared out at the back yard. He watched a bumblebee buzz around in the lilac bush. "Stupid content bee," he mumbled.

A sketchbook lay open on a nearby table. Picking it up, he thumbed through the pages, staring at dozens of drawings of bees on flowers, bees in the air, bees all around. God, Cas loved bees. Always had. He was fascinated about how the world literally depended on honeybees for survival.

The pencil fell out of the sketchpad and into his lap, and he stared at both it and the paper. His hand wasn't shaking _that _bad. A silly idea filtered into his brain, and he turned the pad to a fresh sheet and starting drawing.

Hours later, Cas and the girls came home. Dean was still drawing.

"Hello, Dean. Good to see you up and about." Cas leaned over to kiss him. "What are you drawi- is that me?"

"Yeah."

"Why am I naked and covered in bees?"

"Heh. Thought it might be funny."

"You'd never let me sit on the car like that."

"I'd let you. You're the only one. You're special."

Sitting across from him, Cas gave him a slightly bemused smile. He ran a hand through his shock of white hair. "You're in a good mood."

"Sam's coming to visit Labor Day weekend."

"Oh. That's wonderful. Gabe too?"

"Gabe has something going on. Are the girls still here?"

"They want to stay for dinner, but they're concerned you're not up to it."

"I am."

Cas smiled bigger. "Wonderful. We have a bunch of apples. I was thinking about making a couple of pies."

"Hell, yeah."

Standing, Cas squeezed his shoulder. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Me, too." Dean set the pencil aside. "I'm sorry, Cas. I know I'm being a jerk and all."

"It's ok."

"No, don't say that. It's not ok and I'm trying to apologize here. It's not ok. You're taking good care of me and taking care of everything, really, and all I do is lay around in bed. That's not being a very good husband."

Sighing, Cas sat down on the edge of the foot stool. He patted Dean's leg. "This is hard for you. I expect some difficulty adjusting."

"Adjusting is one thing. Being a dick is something else entirely. I snapped at Mei."

"I know. She told me."

"Upset her, didn't I?"

"Yes."

Dean covered Cas's hand with his own. "Upset you, too. Did you really call Gabe in tears?"

"He wasn't supposed to tell you that," Cas grumbled, cheeks coloring.

"I wish you'd have told me," Dean said softly. "I'm pretty self-absorbed sometimes."

"Well, you have a right to be. This is a huge adjustment."

"That doesn't mean I should be taking it out on you. Fight back, Cas. Tell me I'm being an asshole. Don't let me get away with this shit."

Cas didn't say anything. In the house, they could hear the girls horsing around, music drifting out the open door. Dishes clattered, cabinet doors were slammed. A grin formed on Cas's face. "They're likely eating all our food," he chuckled.

"How is it two smart girls who learn difficult concepts with ease both managed to fail your cooking lessons?"

"Hell if I know. At least David learned."

"Yeah. Know what he told me the other day?"

"What?"

"He's thinking about running for President."

"Yes, I was aware. He's been talking about it for a while. Not sure how I feel about it. Even in this more enlightened age, the media will call his "unusual parentage" into question."

"Yeah. Well. All we can do is support him. That's what parents are for."

"Indeed."

Another cabinet door slammed and Mei's high pitched giggle drifted out the door.

"Ok, I'm going to go see what those two are up to," Cas chuckled. He stood and squeezed Dean's shoulder. "Stay out here and soak up this weather. It's good for you." A kiss on Dean's head, and he disappeared into the house. "You two better not be eating everything in sight!" he called, a bunch of wild giggles in response.

Another fat bee buzzed past the sunporch.

"Stupid content bee," Dean said with a smile.


	2. All These Places Have Their Moments

It didn't last, unfortunately. Mid-November, Dean slid downhill healthwise. The exhaustion and fatigue hit him hard, and even though he tried to be cheerful, Cas could tell it wasn't easy. The doctors had told him it would be like this - good days, decent days, ok days, bad days, worse days.

Dean had been diagnosed with relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis. What it boiled down to was days, sometimes weeks, with no problems, no symptoms at all. Dean would feel great. He'd get some painting done, help Cas in the garden, swim in the pool, help with meal prep. He smiled easily, cracked jokes, and acted like his old self. When Sam came for a visit in September, he and Dean took the Impala down to the city for lunch. Dean drove both ways, and in general, felt great.

Sometime around Halloween, the change had begun. He started having trouble sleeping. Then the tremors came back, and the clumsiness, which of course brought a fresh wave of depression with it. The depression got worse after two failed attempts at sex.

Cas watched him struggle, at times feeling completely helpless. He did everything he could to keep Dean comfortable, to keep his spirits up, and Dean, bless him, did his best to not let his depression take over. He was trying so hard, and Cas loved him for it.

The last several days had been bad. Dean had a migraine that wasn't going away, and he'd barely gotten out of bed, despite the fact that sleep wasn't happening. Keeping him fed and hydrated wasn't easy; nausea from the headache caused a loss of appetite.

The weather had turned cooler. Cas had the pool winterized, and the bees tended to stay closer to the hives. Dean's mood seemed to be turning with the weather, his spirits sinking with the sun on the shorter days. Thanksgiving was coming, and their house would be full of family. Sam and Gabe would be there, with Cas's father, Anna and Michael, Charlie and Dorothy, and of course, the girls, David, and Elena. But now, Cas was wondering if Dean was going to be up to it. He wondered if he needed to make other plans.

"What are you thinking about?" Dean asked groggily.

"Uh, nothing."

"Liar."

He felt Dean shiver. "Are you cold?"

"What? No. M'fine."

"Now who's the liar?" Cas muttered, pulling his body off the couch. He threw an extra log on the fire and pulled another blanket off the chair and wrapped a protesting Dean in it. "There."

"Wasn't that cold."

"I don't know why you insist on suffering."

"It's not that. I j-just - I d-don't want you to, to," Dean stumbled. "Want you to rest." He sighed. "Hate when it makes me talk funny."

"I know." Cas settled back into the couch, tugging Dean closer. He stroked his hand through Dean's hair. "You're having a rough week. I'm happy to take care of you."

"W-who's taking care of you?"

"I'm fine."

"Sure."

They sat quietly, watching flames dance in the fireplace. As much as he knew Dean missed the firehouse, Cas loved this house so much more. He loved having everything on one floor, no stairs whatsoever to aggravate his old knees. He loved how modern and energy efficient it was. Loved the expansive property and the lack of close neighbors. He loved how quiet it was at night.

And moments like this? Curled on the couch with a fire roaring in the fireplace, surrounded by their keepsakes and family photos? It didn't get any better as far as he was concerned.

Dean snored softly next to him, asleep on his shoulder. Cas wondered if he had any clue, even after all these long years, how much he loved him. He wondered if Dean knew that taking care of him was a blessing. They'd come so close to not having this. To not having each other.

He didn't care if Dean was sick. It didn't change a damn thing.

Castiel still loved Dean more than anyone in his world.

* * *

Two days before Thanksgiving, Dean collapsed in the kitchen and hit his head on the counter hard enough to knock him out.

Cas paced the ER waiting room at Upper Chesapeake Hospital, waiting for news. He felt sick, terrified. Somewhere back there, Tiana was trying to find out what was going on. _Doctor _Novak-Winchester wouldn't take no for an answer and bullied her way into the ER with her sass and her Hopkins ID and demanded professional courtesy.

Mei sat nearby, paging through an old magazine. She looked up and tracked Cas's movements across the floor. "Papa, calm down."

"I am calm."

"That's why you're wearing a path in the linoleum. C'mon, sit down. Your knees will be pissed if you don't."

Well, she was right about that. Cas dropped into an empty chair. "I'm worried sick."

"No kidding. Me, too."

Tiana pushed through the door. "Ok," she announced, walking to where they were sitting. "He's going to be alright. No concussion, but he has a really bad bladder infection. It's so bad, it worked it's way up to his kidneys."

"Shit."

"Papa, it's not your fault. He's been having trouble and didn't tell you because he didn't want you to worry. Typical Dad bullshit. Anyway, they're slamming him with antibiotics and fluids, he's got a cath in, and they're going to move him upstairs. Daddy bought himself three days of observation, and I haven't even gotten to him yet, but when I do...ooh, he's gonna get it." She illustrated her point with a shaking fist.

"But he's ok?"

"He will be. I'm trying to get them to let you back there. I don't understand why they didn't let you stay with him to begin with and why it took them four hours to get their act together."

Cas ran a hair through his hair. "I don't know whether to hug him or smack him."

"I advocate both, Pops," Mei grinned. "Tia, do we have to time to get Papa something to eat?"

"Yup."

"I'm not hungry."

"Nope," Mei said, standing and dragging him from the chair, "you're gonna eat whether you like it or not. Who's taking care of you, huh?"

"I guess you are," Cas smiled, as both girls took an arm.

"Damn right," Tiana grinned.

"Sound just like your father."

* * *

Dean couldn't look at Cas. He stared down at the blanket. Looked at his old, wrinkled hands. Gazed out the window.

"Dean."

"I know," he muttered.

"Do you? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Was 'mbarrassed," Dean muttered.

"These are things I need to know. You could have done significant damage to your kidneys. Irreversible damage. You could have died. The infection could have caused renal failure and - you could have _died_, Dean."

"Cas -"

"No, I get it. It's embarrassing to talk about bladder function, fine. Then call the damn doctor. But you can't ignore it, you can't pretend it's going to go away on it's own. Don't you get it? Your whole life has changed. It's different now, and any type of blip in your physical well being is news!"

Casting his eyes back down, Dean picked at a cuticle on his thumb. The sting of hot tears prickled underneath his lids and he slammed his eyes shut, determined not to cry. He was damn sick of crying.

Cas sighed and plopped into a chair. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "You just - you have a bad habit of scaring the shit out of me."

Dean choked on his reply.

"Are you ok?"

He shook his head vigorously, still refusing to meet Cas's eyes.

"Dean -"

"Hola, bitches!" Charlie Bradbury shoved her way into the room, a bunch of garish balloons announcing her arrival. Her still long hair, liberally streaked with grey amongst the red strands, was pulled back into a loose bun. "So I hear someone thought spending Thanksgiving in the hospital would get him out of Turkey Day dish duty, huh?" She released the balloons and dropped a hand to her hip. "Not cool, Young Skywalker."

"Like to take this moment to remind you, _yet again,_ that I am older than you," Dean said, grateful for the distraction of her arrival.

"So? I can _Young Skywalker_ you anytime I want, handmaiden." Charlie grinned over at Cas, "did the nurses threaten to throw him out for being an asshole yet?"

"Hey -"

"I'm sure it's coming any moment," Cas grinned back.

"Saw Tia and Mei in the hall. They're heading to the airport to pick up Sam and Gabe."

"Oh, shit," Dean groaned. "I forgot they were coming. Sam's going to give me so much shit."

"As well he should. Charlie, I'm going to go get a cup of tea if you don't mind. Can I bring you anything?"

"Nah, I'm good."

"I'll take a slice of pi-"

"Nothing. A slice of nothing. I'm mad at you." Cas stomped out of the room without another word.

"Oh, buddy," Charlie murmured, perching on the edge of his bed. "You done it this time."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Bladder infection, huh?"

Dean felt his face heat. "Charlie, can we not? Gross."

"Please. Nothing gross about bodily functions. Part of life, pal."

"Still -"

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you been having issues with it? And were you planning on telling Cas at all? Because that's what everyone's upset about. I know you. You think people are grossed out because it's about your bladder and all that, but that's not the issue. They're upset because you didn't tell anyone. You and your whole suffer in silence bullshit."

"Yeah, well, it's embarrassing when you can't fucking pee on your own, ok? I thought it would pass. I thought I'd be fine!"

"See how that worked out for you?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean huffed and looked away from her. At least the urge to cry had passed into something more angry.

"Dean, c'mon. If I can't say this shit to you-"

"Yeah, and then I'll get it from Sam, from Gabe, from my own fucking daughter. Let's all straighten Dean out!" he spouted bitterly.

"It's not like that."

"No? Then tell me what the fuck it's like, Charlie."

Sighing she reached for his hand, gently unfolding his arms. He let her do it. "It's like this. We're all worried sick about you. You have a very bad habit of not taking care of yourself. And right now? We're all scared. I doubt you've seen your face, but you've got a bruise the size of an MTA bus on your forehead from where you hit the counter. You're not a young dude anymore. A fall like that can do serious damage. Not to mention," and her voice took on a slightly harder tone, "you're killing Cas."

"Cas is fine."

"Shit, you're not really that obtuse, are you? He's not fine. He's not sleeping. I can tell by the circles under his eyes, not to mention he's obviously lost weight. I'm starting to wonder if this is how it's going to be every time you have a flare."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked quietly.

"Last time you had a bad flare, you shut him out and he got pretty badly depressed. I think it was Sam that go through to you that time. Guess it's my turn, huh? So Dean, Cas is badly depressed. And it's kinda your fault."

"Of course it is,"he muttered.

"It really is. You get depressed and you take him down with you."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"Nope. Just trying to get through your thick skull." She traced the lines on his hand with her fingers. "You know how much we love you. And that's what this is. We love you, and we're worried about you, about both of you, really. You and Cas - you have a good thing. Don't obliterate it in a moment of pique."

Dean startled. "You think he'd leave me?"

"No, no, that would _never_ happen - I just - I don't want you to get him so worked up he has a stroke or a heart attack or something. You're both in your super early sixties. Still got a hella lot of living left to do. So do it? Ok?"

"Feel like such an idiot -"

"That's 'cause you kinda are."

Dean chuckled. Charlie wiggled around until she was laying beside Dean. She wove their fingers together with her head on his shoulder.

"Seriously, I don't know why - w-why," a solid lump formed in his throat and he couldn't get the words out. "I don't - Ch-charlie," he stumbled.

"I know. Sweetie, I know."

He sniffled, soaking up the comfort she was offering. She wiggled them around, switched positions so that Dean was laying on Charlie's shoulder, while she soothingly ran her fingers through his hair. He gave up on fighting the tears and let them come. Charlie hummed a tuneless melody as she continued stroking his head.

His eyelids grew heavy and he let them close, let sleep overtake him.

* * *

"Eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Eat it, dammit."

"Buzz off."

"Nope. Not going anywhere until you eat. It's Thanksgiving. Eat."

Cas shoved his loaded plate back across the table and Gabe just barely caught it.

"I'm getting dressed and going to the hospital. I owe Dean a piece of pie." Cas pulled a plate out and slapped a generous portion of pumpkin pie onto it. He added an equally large piece of apple and wrapped the whole thing in foil.

"Cas -"

"Leave me alone."

"So that's how it is? Someone tells you something you don't want to hear and -"

"SHUT UP, GABE!" Cas roared, slamming the plate onto the counter, feeling it crack beneath his hands. "Ah, shit," he muttered, pulling the foil off. Dean's slices were smashed and the plate had cracked right up the middle.

"Ready to calm down now? How much have you slept in the last two days?"

"Not enough," Cas admitted. "I'm sorry, Gabe."

"No skin off my nose. Just worried 'bout you, bro." He squeezed Cas's shoulder. "Can't really take care of Dean if you're not taking care of yourself."

"If Dean would actually allow me to take care of him," Cas shot back.

"So he's stubborn. Be stubborner."

"Stubboner? Is that a word?" Cas couldn't help but crack a grin.

"It's a word in my world and I'm rich as fuck and do what I want."

Cas chuckled. "So modest, too."

"Always." Gabe reached for another plate. "C'mon, I'll make a plate for Dean. Sit down and eat. Please?"

"Alright." Cas sat at the table and pulled his plate closer. "Doesn't make sense to not to eat the food I cooked."

"Exactly," Gabe agreed, as he moved about preparing a plate for Dean.

"Ok, I've got the stuff he asked for. When are we going?" Sam set an overnight bag down on the table. "Hey, Cas, you're eating. That's great!"

"As soon as he's done, we'll go."

Sam nodded as he crossed the room. He wrapped one of his big arms around Gabe, tipping his head up for a kiss.

Cas chuckled as the kiss got a little heated. "Right here, guys," he reminded them.

Pulling his head away, Sam blushed. "Ah, sorry Cas. All these years later. Man, it just doesn't get old." He slapped Gabe's ass affectionately. "I'm gonna go finish getting ready." He smiled and ducked out of the room.

"Gross," Cas said cheerfully.

"Like you're any better, asshole."

Presenting his clean plate, Cas smiled. "I know. We're just as bad. Can I go see him now?"

* * *

"Daddy, you're gonna give Papa a heart attack."

"You're like the third person to tell me that this week."

Tiana stared over the top of her glasses. "But with me, it's a professional opinion, understand?"

"Yes, Doctor," Dean muttered.

"We're worried about both of you," David chimed in. "I wish you'd let us hire someone to come in during the week. Not a nurse," David clarified, holding his hands up in surrender, "like a housekeeper. Someone to cook and do some cleaning, so that Pops isn't doing everything on his own."

"Yeah, I get it. I'm a burden."

"Dammit, Daddy. That's not it at all."

"Mei's right. No one thinks you're a burden, but we do think you and Cas need a little help," Elena added. "And we're all willing to go in together and split the bill for someone to come in four to five days a week to cook, do laundry, clean, stuff like that. It's not charity, it's all of us wanting to help. Since we're not always available to come help."

Dean's eyes stung with tears. "Makes me feel so damn useless," he muttered.

He was met by a chorus of groans.

"Dad, you need a new catch phrase," Mei said irritably.

"Like an intervention or something."

"Why is it that it always has to come to that? Why do you always do this?" David crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not a burden. We're all damn tired of hearing you say you are. Enough, Dad."

"Yeah, well, Cas won't agree to the housekeeper thing."

"He already did." Tiana pulled a sheet of paper out of her bag. "These are the people we've narrowed it down to. We've starred the ones we like."

"Might as well give up," Mei giggled. She was sitting on Dean's bed, crosslegged. She'd given him a manicure and was now contently painting little turkeys and pumpkins on his nails.

"Hello, everyone!" Cas called, pushing open the door. "I come bearing gifts." He set a bag on Dean's tray, leaning over Mei's head to kiss Dean. "Lovely nails," he smiled.

"She's very talented, our daughter," Dean smiled, watching Mei's careful brush strokes. "Tell me you brought pie."

"I did. Brought something else, too."

Dean looked up. "Sammy!"

"Hey!"

The room dissolved into controlled chaos for a moment, as hugs were given and positions shifted. David and Elena left to spend the rest of the evening with Elena's family in Carroll County and Sam settled his overgrown ass on the end of Dean's bed. Gabe and Tiana busted out Uno cards and rolled Dean's table around so they could play the game, which quickly devolved into a cutthroat showdown between Sam and Dean.

"Draw four, bro!" Sam crowed triumphantly, slapping his card down on the pile. Dean grumbled and added four more cards to his already full hand. He set his cards down for a moment and shoved another large chunk of pie into his mouth.

"Ooo suck," he mumbled around the chunks of apple.

"Only 'cause I'm winning and you hate when I win."

"Won't last. Don't get cocky."

Cas smiled as he laid a reverse card on the pile. "There. Have your revenge, dear."

Dean shuffled through his hand. "Oh, man. I don't have any good cards!"

Exploding into laughter, Sam slapped Dean on the back. "Haha, told you I was winning!"

"Children," Gabe said warningly.

"Children is right." Mei slapped a draw four on the table. "Four for you, Tiana," she grinned.

"Ugh!" Brown eyes found his across the table. "Little sisters!"

"I feel ya, Tia," Dean grinned.

Later, things had calmed down and it was just Dean and Cas in the room. Cas had elected to stay, bringing the car with him so he could take Dean home in the morning.

"So the catheter is apparently a thing now. At least, it's a thing when everything stops working."

"Yes. You're going to have to carefully monitor your output so you don't get like this again." Cas's gentle fingers traced the bruise Dean knew was on the center of his forehead. "I hate being terrified like that."

"I'm sorry," Dean breathed, shifting until he was snuggled into Cas's side. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I guess I should be used to it. You've made a lifetime out of pretending things are fine when they aren't. I need you to stop doing that right now. I need you to tell me when things are wrong. I need to know when you don't feel good. I need to know these things."

"Ok," Dean said meekly. "I'm gonna try to -"

"No. Not to sound like Yoda, but there is no try. You need to do. You need to say, hey, Cas, I can't pee. Hey, Cas, I'm nauseous. I need to know when things aren't right so we can fix it." The first tear slipped out unbidden. Dean pressed his face closer to Cas's neck. "Oh, Dean. Don't cry. It's ok."

That only served to make him cry harder.

"Dean, baby, come on. It's ok, come on." Cas wrapped his arms tightly around him, pulling him closer and stroking a soothing hand down his back. "I wish you'd stop this. I know it's upsetting but acting like the whole world is coming down around you doesn't help."

"It's not even that. I just don't understand why - w-why this had to ha-happen to me. W-why me? Haven't I been - haven't I b-been through enough?"

"I know it seems that -"

"It doesn't seem! It is! Since 2001, my life has been fucked up! I got like t-twenty y-years of decent health. N-now this. Can't e-even t-talk right anymore." He shuddered, exhausted by his outburst.

"It will get better. A week from now, you might be in the remission stage."

"Yeah, and then it's a relapse. Remit, relapse. I heard the doctor, too. This is the rest of my goddamn life."

"So is this how you plan to spend it then? Instead of making the most of the time we do have? When the good days come, do you plan to stay in bed and be angry at the world? You're accusing the disease of taking your life away but it sounds to me like you're willing to give it away."

"It's not like that," Dean mumbled, ashamed.

"Then what is it like? Because I'm pretty sure I'm mishearing you."

"I don't want to give up. I don't."

"You're depressed. You have a therapist you refuse to see. She can't help you if you don't go."

Dean didn't say anything else. He knew Cas was right. He knew it.

"I think we should both be in therapy, to be honest."

"Really? 'Cause you seem fine."

"I'm not fine. I'm falling apart, but like you, I hide it. Because I don't want you to see it. Because you'll do that guilty thing you do, like it's your fault."

"Is my fault."

"No. It's not."

Dean squirmed and rolled away from Cas on the hospital bed. He pulled the sheet up over his head. "It's my fault. I stress you out and I make everything terrible and now you're having problems that you wouldn't be having if it wasn't for me. It's my fault."

"Baby, I don't know what else to say to convince you it isn't." Cas rubbed the back of Dean's neck, and Dean melted into his touch. "It's extenuating circumstances. It's outside elements that make dealing with this that much harder. But it's not you. And it's not your fault. I promise you that."

More tears dripped down Dean's nose and onto the sheets. He had nothing left to say. Cas rubbed his neck, eventually replacing his fingers with his lips. Eventually, Cas drifted off behind him, snuggled up against Dean's back.

It was a long time before Dean found sleep.

* * *

Things plateaued for them after Dean's hospital stay. As Cas had predicted, Dean went into a remission state. The fatigue still bothered him, but the tremors weren't as pronounced. Christmas was uneventful in the best way possible, and made easier by the arrival of Janne, their new housekeeper. She was younger than both of them, but had designated herself their new mother, and it took exactly a week for Cas to look around and wonder how they'd ever survived without her.

Dean's good health continued, so in January, they decided to make their planned trip to Paris for their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

Mei and Tiana fell in love with the city and disappeared together most afternoons, while Cas and Dean went to the Louvre and retraced the steps they'd taken so many years before. After a few days of walking and sightseeing, Dean grudgingly admitted that he needed to use the wheelchair. Cas covered him with a blanket and took him out on the town anyway. After all, they hadn't been to the Eiffel Tower yet. As evening fell, they found a quiet bench in view of the tower.

"I will never forget what it felt like, to come around that corner, hear the music, then realize it was you singing. I think my heart stopped for a moment." Cas smiled and took Dean's hand. "What was it like for you?"

"I focused on the music so I wouldn't lose my shit. I was terrified you were gonna bail the minute you saw me." Dean squeezed Cas's hand. "Glad I went through with it."

"I can't believe it's been thirty years."

Dean nodded.

They sat quietly, watching people walk by.

"_Never traveled so far, never traveled so far, to get back where you are,"_ Dean sang softly, his voice gruff with age. _"All this time, we were waiting for each other. All this time, I was waiting for you. Got all this love, can't waste it on another, so I'm straight in a straight line, running back to you." _

Cas's heart swelled, warmth tingling through him despite the January cold.

"_Straight in a straight line, running back to you. Straight in a straight line, running back," _he lifted Cas's hand and kissed it, _"to you."_

"Oh, Dean," Cas whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. These past thirty years - a gift, Cas. A goddamn gift," Dean's voice broke. "Every time I stop and think about how close we came to not having this - I've never taken a day, a minute, one second for granted. Not one second." Dean's voice was thick with emotion as he pressed his lips to Cas's hand once more. "Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for my second, hell, my third, fourth, and fifth chances."

"It wasn't that dramatic," Cas smiled. "Thank you for letting me back in." He pulled Dean closer and kissed him. They were completely lost in each other when a camera flashed.

Blinking, Cas stared up at their giggling daughters.

"Ugh, old guys kissing, gross," Mei pulled a face, but there was joy in her eyes.

"This whole big city and you manage to stumble onto us?"

"Daddy! It's the Eiffel Tower. Not our fault you were here when we just _happened _to come see it."

"Yeah, right. You two are up to something."

"No idea what you're talking about."

Somewhere near the base of the tower, music swelled. The tune was familiar. The words that were being sung even more so.

Tiana's eyes were bright. "Take Daddy's hand, Papa," she smiled, moving behind Dean to push the wheelchair. She pushed Dean away from the bench, closer to the main lawn of the tower.

A pretty dark haired lady in a red dress was singing, while others behind her played the piano and violins.

As Cas gripped Dean's hand, familiar faces swum into view. Sam and Gabe were there, beaming like the idiots they were.

"This is their doing, I assume?" Cas asked.

"All of our doing," Mei confirmed. She'd slipped over to Cas's other side and taken his arm.

David and Elena joined them, hands clasped, as they walked beside Dean. "Happy Anniversary, Dad and Pops. You guys deserve this," David said with a pat to Dean's shoulder.

Sparing a glance at Dean, Cas wasn't surprised to see tears streaming down his face. After all, he was in the same shape.

"_I don't know what day it is, I had to check the paper. I don't know the city but it isn't home. You say I'm lucky to love something that loves me, but I'm torn as I could be wherever I roam."_

Cas smiled down at Dean. Dean smiled back. Then he kicked the footpads of his wheelchair out of the way, struggling to his feet with David's help.

"Dance with me," he smiled, holding his hand out to Cas.

"Are you sure? Can you handle this?"

"Damn straight or die trying."

Cas grinned and let Dean pull him into the shelter of his arms.

"_All this time we were waiting for each other. All this time I was waiting for you. Got all these words, can't waste them on another. So I'm straight in a straight line running back to you."_

They swayed in each other's arms, in time with the music. Cas felt like he was floating. Surrounded by their children and their beloved brothers in the city where it all finally came back together, Cas didn't think he could be happier than he was in that moment. Looking into Dean's shining eyes, it was clear he felt the same.

* * *

After dinner with their children and brothers, Dean had reached his fun limit. He was tired and achey, and more than ready to go back to the hotel. They left everyone to enjoy a fourth bottle of wine, and Dean allowed Cas to roll him up to their room.

"Thirty years," Dean sighed as they rode the elevator up to their floor. "Blink of an eye, if you ask me."

"Indeed. That was a lovely surprise, wasn't it? And dinner afterwards? I had a wonderful time."

"Yup. I'm glad I was feeling well enough to enjoy it."

"Me, too."

"Would you be interested in taking a bath? We have such a big tub in our room."

"Honestly? I'd love too, but I don't know if I'd be able to get in and out safely."

"Do you trust me to help you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Ok then."

Dean chuckled as Cas wheeled him down the hall and into their room. Once inside, he started the water in the tub and came back to help Dean undress.

"You sure about this? I'm not that light anymore," Dean added, patting his slightly chubby midsection.

"I'm sure. I'm strong enough. No worries," he said, kneeling to undo Dean's shoes.

"I like when you undress me. That's hot, Cas."

Chuckling, he reached for Dean's belt, undid the buckle and pulled it from his jeans. "I like undressing you."

Cas was strong enough, Dean discovered. He felt plenty secure as Cas moved him from the chair and into the warm water, which felt like Heaven on his aching muscles. Cas climbed in behind him and he settled back against Cas's chest and sighed.

"Good?"

"Good." Dean enjoyed the feeling of each and every one of his muscles unlocking and unwinding, as he melted more and more into Cas's arms. "Mmm, we should use the tub at home more."

"Been trying to tell you that," Cas murmured. He trailed the tips of his fingers down Dean's arm, traveling slowly down to his waist. Shifting a little, Cas positioned them so he could run his hands across Dean's hips. His fingers danced a slow trail towards Dean's groin.

"Lost cause," Dean muttered.

"Is it?" Cas wrapped his hand around Dean's dick, stroking gently. "Does that feel good?"

"Yeah," Dean breathed, "but it's a waste of time. Every time we've tried to lately -"

"Ssh," Cas cut him off. "Don't think. Don't concentrate. Just feel. Just let go, and feel. It doesn't matter if you come as long as you feel good. Ok?"

"Ok."

"Close your eyes."

Dean complied, letting his head roll back onto Cas's shoulder. The grip on his cock was firm, sliding up and down slowly, gently. Dean didn't think. He lost himself in the rhythm of Cas's hand on him. The other hand slid up his chest, fingers finding his nipple. Electric sparks tripped across his vision.

"Fuck -"

"It's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Fuck, Cas."

"Ssh."

Something slick joined the party and Cas picked up the pace, sliding his whole fist up over the head, back down and up again, adding a clever little twist with his wrist. His other hand was still exploring, sliding down Dean's back.

"Still doing good?"

"Fuck, Cas, I think I'm gonna - I'm gonna -"

Cas sucked his ear into his mouth, and a finger slipped between his cheeks, finding his hole easily.

"A-ahh!" Dean's hips bucked, and he painted his own chest with come. The aftershocks seemed to go on forever, until he finally slumped back into Cas's arms, panting.

"See? Don't stress it. Feel better now?"

"I feel amazing. Can we get out though? I'd like to return the favor and I think I could do that better in bed."

"Alright."

Once situated in the bed, Dean propped his body on pillows and sucked and fingered Cas to an orgasm. Sated, they curled around each other in bed.

"Damn, I feel good as fuck right now."

"Good. I'm glad." Cas shifted Dean around until he was laying on his shoulder. "Now go to sleep," he chuckled.

"Alright."

It was quiet in the room, lights from the city creating an ambient glow that caught in Cas's pretty eyes.

"Any chance we could attempt Italy before we go home? I'd really like to see the Vatican again."

"Let's wait and see how you feel, alright? But I don't see it being a problem. We can take the train."

"Ok."

Dean was almost asleep when Cas kissed his forehead and whispered, "Happy Anniversary. I love you."

"Love you, too."


	3. There Is No One Compares with You

And we've reached the end of the line for the PA 'verse. Thanks for coming along for the ride, and thanks for all your reviews!

(Note - I imagine there will be a lot of changes in thirty years, especially where technology and healthcare is concerned. For the sake of this story, I chose not to bog it down with speculative fiction about the future. I wanted to keep it a story about the love shared between Dean and Cas. I hope I succeeded.)

* * *

The remission stage seemed like it was going to stick around for awhile, and for that, Cas was incredibly grateful. Winter passed and spring bloomed on their property, the bees becoming more active as leaves opened on the branches and flowers spread their petals. April turned into May and the weather grew much warmer.

Dean had been doing so well. He was making an effort to inform Cas of any difficulties he was having, and the communication helped them both. They took both girls to Disney World at the end of May, and although Dean had to use a wheelchair for a lot of it, he still got on as many rides as he could handle. After their fourth run of Pirates of the Caribbean, Cas cut him off.

In the early days of June, their backyard was decorated with streamers, fairy lights, and candles, and Cas held Dean's hand as David and Elena tied the knot. Two weeks after that, David announced his candidacy for President, and talked about hiring a bodyguard for his fathers. Dean complained loud and long about that, but no one really listened. At night, Cas and Dean would lay in bed and talk about how worried they were. Proud, but worried.

July marked one year since they'd left the firehouse, and Cas finally convinced Dean to let him drive down to Remington to see it. Cas was pleased at the smile that formed on Dean's face as they pulled up.

Every window displayed brightly colored art projects, and a banner over the main doors read _Baltimore Childrens Art Center_ in electric blue letters. The big doors had been painted with a park scene depicting small children running with kites and kicking balls.

"This is exactly what I'd hoped for," Dean said softly, staring in wonder.

"I called ahead. They're expecting us."

"Awesome!"

Cas helped Dean from the car, pleased that he was able to walk normally. That would go a long way to ensuring he enjoyed this trip.

"Hi guys!" Charlie bounced out the front door. "The kids are so excited to meet you two today." She took Dean's arm. "I still can't believe this is the first time I've gotten you down here to see it."

"Well, y'know. Was kinda raw for me. Spent most of my life in here," Dean said, staring up at the building. "Was the only real home I ever had."

"I know," she smiled, patting his hand. "C'mon." She pushed the door open and led them into what used to be Dean's studio.

Both of them stopped dead and just stared.

Color exploded from every surface. Streamers and fairy lights hung from the ceiling. It smelled of paint, popcorn, and that particular smell that seemed to follow small children. A large banner had been strung from one end of the space to the other, painted with _Thank You Dean &amp; Cas_ in large, slightly drippy red letters, decorated with a rainbow of different sized handprints.

"Wow -" Dean said softly.

"What did you expect? You practically donated the place."

"No, we sold it -"

"For a quarter of what it was appraised for. Please. Come on, I want you to meet Nancy." Charlie took Dean's hand and led him to a door in the wall that hadn't been there before. "Since so many of the kiddies are disabled, we had an elevator installed. I think it would be easier on you, too. Ok?"

"Wow, cool! Cas, why didn't we get an elevator installed? I could have stayed here!"

"But then the children wouldn't have this," Cas gently reminded him.

"Oh, yeah."

The elevator door opened on the second floor, and Cas watched as Dean's jaw dropped.

Color. Color everywhere.

The children didn't seem to notice their arrival. A young lady in the corner near what had been Sam's bedroom was busy helping two girls in wheelchairs make handprints on paper.

"That's Nancy Fitzgerald. She's in charge of planning the curriculum." Charlie pointed to a dark haired woman across the room. "And I'm sure you remember -"

"Krissy Chambers. Holy shit," Dean murmured.

"Yup, as soon as she heard what we were doing, she jumped on board."

Krissy looked up then, eyes lighting up when she saw Dean standing in the kitchen. "Mr. Winchester!" she yelled, causing dozens of eyes to turn their way. Cas could feel Dean's embarrassment.

"Everyone," Charlie called to the students, "This is Cas and Dean. They used to own the firehouse."

The children all applauded, some cheered, as Krissy wove her way across the room. "Can I hug you Mr. Winchester?"

"Only if you call me Dean, ok?"

Krissy's eyes lit up as she threw herself into Dean's arms. "I'm so happy you finally came to see it. Nancy and I have been working so hard and even Kevin comes in to help."

"You and Kevin still buds?"

Blushing, she looked down at her hand. "We're getting married," she smiled.

"Well. Only took you thirty years."

"Shut up," she grinned, playfully punching his arm.

"Proud of you," Dean smiled, but wobbled slightly.

"Ok, let's get you a chair," Cas said, pulling him towards an available seat. Dean was still eyeing everything around them and didn't complain or resist when Cas made him sit. It was a small win, but he'd take it.

* * *

Dean happily squelched his paint covered hand onto the paper, turning to laugh at the child beside him. His name was Ben, he was thirteen, and he had cerebral palsy. Didn't slow him down a bit.

The boy clapped his hands. "Do it again!" he yelled, so Dean coated his hand in green this time, smacking it down on the paper.

"Whoa! Look how cool that looks! You can still see some of the red."

"Like a bleedin' t-rex!" Ben told him. "When it dries, we'll add some beady t-rex eyes."

"Dude, I am so down with that."

"Cool!"

"What's that?" Ben asked, pointing to another section of the paper, where Dean had painstakingly drawn four symbols.

"Oh, that's for Led Zeppelin. The band members thought it would be awesome to make a symbol for each of their names." He pointed to the one that looked like the letters Zoso. "That's for Robert Plant. He was the lead singer. Could wail like no other." He pointed out Page's symbol. "Jimmy Page. Probably one of the greatest guitarists the world has ever known. John Paul Jones, bassist extraordinaire. And John Bonham, best drummer in the universe, gone well before his time."

"Dude, you really love them, don't you?"

"Yup, check it out." He pulled up the sleeve of his tee, revealing the tattoo of the Hermit. "This figure was inside the center fold of Zep IV. And I've got a couple of song lyrics tattooed in other places, too."

"That is so awesome," Ben enthused. "I like AC/DC. They're my favorite old music."

"Old music, huh?"

"Well, yeah. The 1970's was like, _forever_ ago!"

"I was born in the 1970's -"

"Wow! You're really old!"

"Thanks."

"Ok, Ben, time to clean up. Mom's coming."

"Aw, do I have to? I want to hang out with Dean. He's cool for a really old dude."

Krissy laughed. "Not nice, Ben. He's not that old."

"Well, you're old and he's older than you."

"Jeez, kid, you're on a roll." Krissy cast Dean an apologetic smile.

Nancy took the handles of Ben's chair. "I'll take him," she said.

"Thanks." Krissy gathered some paper towels and handed them to Dean. "Need some help?"

"Yeah, I'm a little messy."

Smiling, she gently took his hand and wiped away as much of the paint as she could. "You know, I don't think I ever thanked you," she said softly.

"For what?"

"For believing in me."

"Well, uh - y'know, I um," Dean stumbled.

"Look, my dad always encouraged me," Krissy told him, setting the towels aside. "But you were the first person that really told me I had talent. And it meant so much coming from you. Some of us, like Kevin and Tracy and Josephine - we knew who you were. We'd looked you up. You were a pretty well known artist in the early part of the 2000's. And then you were our teacher. Whatever," she said, waving off his protests, "when _Dean Winchester_ looked at my work and said _you have talent, you'll go far_, it changed my whole outlook, my whole career path. I've had a great career as a graphic artist and that's all because of you. So thank you." She patted his hand.

Dean swallowed. Tears burned in his eyes, but he blinked them back. "I um, I'm glad things have gone so good for you," he murmured, overwhelmed by her words.

Krissy grinned. "They really have." Her eyes focused on someone just behind them. "They've gone pretty good for you, too," she said with a wink.

"Having fun?" Cas sat down beside him, admiring the handprints. "These are very colorful. Ben seems talented."

"Yeah. He's a cool kid. Despite thinking I'm ancient."

"Wait - you aren't?"

Krissy and Cas both laughed.

"Oh, very funny." Dean looked down at his green hand. "I need to go wash." He stood, and the room tilted and spun. "Whoa."

"You ok?" Cas got to his feet immediately, he and Krissy both reaching out to steady him.

"Yeah. I just - think I got up too fast." He blinked, and the spinning stopped. "Yeah, seriously, I'm fine now. I really do think I got up too fast."

"Alright. But let's get you cleaned up and head home. Ok?"

"Yup. Can we come back some time? I really got a lot out of this and the kids are great."

"Absolutely."

"Next time, maybe you can show off some of your work, huh?" Krissy squeezed his arm. "The kids would love it."

"Yeah. Sounds like a plan, kiddo."

She smiled. "Awesome."

* * *

On the ride home, Dean stared out the window as the countryside whipped by. "You know, I thought it would really hurt to see the place again, after living so much of my life there. But it's so full of energy, so full of life, and those kids are so happy," he reached across the seat and took Cas's free hand. "Thank you for making me go. It was so worth it. Every bit."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I am concerned about the moment of vertigo, however. You're sure you're ok?"

"Yeah. I promised you I wouldn't hide stuff anymore and I meant it. I think I need to get out of chairs a little slower. I kinda bounced out of my seat like a twenty-something and I just can't do that anymore. I'm learning, Cas. I know I have limits that I didn't have before. It's going to take me a while to learn all of them. Just be patient with me, ok?"

Cas squeezed his hand and tossed his beautiful gummy grin at Dean. It made his heart warm all the way down to his toes.

"I will be endlessly patient with you, my love."

"Thanks."

"No thanks needed."

…

Three days later, Dean opened the fridge and grunted.

"What?" Cas looked up from his crossword. "What's wrong?"

"No milk. Wanted some milk."

"I'm going to the store later. Add it to my list."

"But I want it now."

"Do you have to be a child?"

"Not bein' a child," Dean muttered. "What happened to endlessly patient?" he said under his breath.

"I will get milk when I go to the store, ok?"

"Whatever." He dropped down into a chair.

"Hello, boys," Janne called, letting herself in. "I brought some of the prettiest apples I've ever seen," she ruffled Dean's hair as she passed him. "Gonna make the grumpy old man a pie."

"Did you bring any milk?"

"Oh, for Christ's sake I said I'd get milk!" Cas slammed his pencil on the table.

"Well, trouble in paradise this morning?"

"No. I'm going to the store. I'll be back." Cas gathered his things and slammed out of the house.

"What did you do to him?" Janne asked, hand on her hip.

"I dunno. I just wanted some milk."

"Hmmph."

"I'm going to go take a shower," Dean muttered defeatedly.

In their bedroom, he stripped down to his boxers, tossing them in the hamper. He walked into their bathroom, reaching down to turn on the water. While it warmed up, he took care of business at the toilet, pleased that everything was in proper working order. It was a good day when the bowels and bladder were doing their jobs.

He stood, and the bathroom tilted on a dizzying angle. "Whoa. Not again," he groaned, reached out for the wall. Dean stood there, breathing, waiting for the dizziness to pass. "That is nine kinds of not fun," he muttered to himself.

Looking at the shower, he decided that taking one while Cas wasn't around probably wasn't a good idea, not with the way the dizziness didn't seem to be abating.

He reached to turn off the water, and his balance disappeared.

The last thing Dean saw was the edge of the tub rushing up to meet him.

* * *

Not again.

Not _again_.

Not when he didn't - not when the last thing he'd said to Dean was a disparaging comment about the damn milk.

"Oh, god," he murmured, hiding his face in his hands.

"Almost there, Papa. Going as fast as I can."

Janne had ridden in the ambulance with Dean. They'd taken him to Upper Chesapeake, but concern over his vitals had led them to airlift Dean to Johns Hopkins where Tiana was waiting. Tiana sent Mei to pick Cas up, concerned that he'd be too upset to drive.

Tiana was a very smart woman.

Mei navigated the city streets with ease, finding a spot in the parking garage quickly. Cas was out of the car before she even had it in park.

"Papa, wait!"

Cas didn't listen. He took off in the direction of the hospital. The only thought in his head was _find Dean. _

"I need to know where Dean Novak-Winchester is," he demanded at the desk.

"Um, just one moment," the harried receptionist replied as she started typing.

"Papa!" Tiana appeared from out of nowhere, rushing forward and taking his arm. "It's ok, Lydia, I have this. Where's Mei?"

"I don't know. Where's Dean?"

"He's getting settled in. Calm down, he's fine. He just scared them up in Bel Air, so they moved him here."

"Scared them how?"

"Well, he wasn't responding to stimulus at first, and with his serious head injury back in 2001, they weren't taking any chances. Halfway here, he started coming around and talking to the medics. Daddy's got a mild concussion and a broken nose, not to mention a whole lot of bruising, but he's ok."

Cas let his breath out in a woosh, his whole body sagging.

"Papa, you're shaking. Let's go get you a cup of tea."

"No, I'm fine. Take me to him, please."

Tiana frowned. "Let the nurses get him settled. Tea first, ok?" She took his arm, gently steering him towards the cafeteria.

"No, I want to - I need to see him. Dean first."

"Papa!" Mei's voice was raised and irritated. "Why did you run away from me like that?" She skidded to a stop in front of him, black hair mussed and face flushed. "That was not cool!"

"I want to see your father! Why won't you take me to him?!" He whirled back to face Tiana. "Take me to Dean right now."

"No. You need to calm down. You're hysterical and I'm not taking you up there to get Daddy worked up. You're shaking, you're upset. Tea first. Then Daddy."

"Dammit!" Cas's voice echoed through the lobby. "Stop patronizing me!"

"Alright, that's it," Tiana tightened her grip on Cas's arm and dragged him across the floor.

People stared, some whispered behind their hands. Cas didn't care. He wanted his husband, and he fought against Tia's surprisingly strong grip. She dragged him into an empty office, shutting the door behind the three of them.

"What is going on with you?" Tia asked, hands on her hips.

"I just want to see Dean! Why are you keeping me from him?!"

"Have you seen yourself? You're sweating and shaking and you look completely freaked out. Daddy is hurt, but he's going to be ok, and right now he's drowsy and comfortable, and if I take you up there looking like you are, he's going to get worked up, too. If the shoe was on the other foot, I'd be telling him the same thing."

"Sit down, Papa," Mei encouraged, pulling out a chair for him. "I'll go to the cafeteria and get you some tea. Please sit."

"But I don't -"

Tiana ran a hand down his arm. "Please. Just for a few minutes. Ok?"

"I left for the store and didn't say I love you. I left angry. What if - what if he had -" Cas's voice broke, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Why does this keep happening? I don't understand!"

"Oh, Papa," Tiana pulled him close, and Mei snuggled in against his back. "You're being so strong. You look out for Daddy all the time. Did we all forget to look out for you?"

"I have to b-be s-strong. He n-needs me!"

"Yeah, but you need someone to help you, too." Mei rubbed soothing circles over his back. "We're here for you. While you're being strong for Daddy, let us be strong for you. Ok?"

Cas could only nod. He was totally drained, and he allowed the girls to steer him onto the couch in the office.

"I'm going to get some tea," Mei said softly.

She left on silent feet, while Tiana sat beside Cas. A box of tissues were placed in Cas's lap, and he took a few and mopped his face.

"I'm ok," he muttered.

"I know. You always are. You're so strong, Papa. I think it's why the rest of us forget sometimes. You need someone to lean on just like Daddy does. I really feel like the three of us let you down."

"You're all busy -"

"That's no excuse. You and Daddy always had time for us. We all need to make time for you." Tiana took his hand, stroking along his fingers soothingly. "He's ok. We're going to run a few tests on him to make sure it's nothing serious. I don't think that it is. He's been experiencing some dizziness and vertigo, which he insists he told you about."

"He did. He's been good about that."

"Good. Anyway, he doesn't remember a lot about what happened, but he said he wanted a shower. He remembers feeling dizzy and deciding that he probably shouldn't take one without you there. That's the last thing he remembers. Daddy fell and hit his head on the edge of the tub. The left side of his face is pretty bruised up and his nose is broken. But he's ok. He's in good spirits. Ok? He's ok."

"Ok," Cas murmured.

Mei let herself back into the room, a foam cup in hand. "Here, Papa."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

They sat quietly while Cas drank his tea, the girls talking about pointless things while Cas silently listened.

"Remember when Grandma Ellen died?" Cas interrupted softly, "And Grandpa Bobby seemed so utterly lost? Like he didn't know what to do with his life anymore?"

Both girls nodded.

"That's how I'd be - if something happened to Dean -" Cas choked back a sob. "I don't think I could - I don't think I could function."

"Oh, Papa. Daddy's got a nice long life to live still. He's not going to -"

"But he could! If he'd fallen at a different angle - or hit his head harder - I could have lost him. I could have - I could have lost him!" He couldn't hold back the next sob or the one after that.

The girls sandwiched him on the couch, arms wrapped tight around him.

"I can't lose him. I can't. I'm not ready. We're too young. We have too much to do."

"And you're going to do all of it." Tiana murmured, running her fingers through his hair. "He's ok. You're ok. I think everything is just catching up with you all at once. C'mon, calm down. It's ok."

"We love you both so much, Papa. Let us help. Please."

He nodded. "Ok. Ok."

* * *

Dean's eyes were closed when Cas finally got upstairs. His nose was wrapped in bandages and white tape, and a line of ugly bruises traveled across his left cheek and into his hairline. His left eye was swollen enough that he probably wasn't able to open it. He looked very peaceful, chest rising and falling softly. Tiana said they were going to keep him overnight, to run a few tests and to make sure there was no lasting damage from the concussion.

Cas carefully moved a chair closer to his bed, settling into it wearily. He reached for Dean's hand, but pulled back, not wanting to disturb him.

"You can hold my hand, silly," Dean said, startling him. His voice was rough and raspy.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"No. Light kinda hurts my eyes." He turned his head slightly to the side and opened his right eye a bit. "Better yet, why don't you come up here and take a nap with me? I'm tired and you look like hell."

"Thanks."

Dean chuckled and closed his eye again. He shuffled over on the bed, making room. "C'mon. Get your perfect ass up here."

Cas smiled and kicked off his shoes, happily crawling under the blanket Dean was holding open for him. He laid his head on Dean's shoulder, letting his arm fall around his husband's waist.

"You ok?" Lips pressed against his forehead.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I'm fine. Dopey, floating on a happy cloud of painkillers," Dean kissed his forehead again. "You look pretty stressed though."

"I am a little - I'm growing weary of all of this, Dean."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Cas sighed and burrowed into Dean's neck, letting his eyes slip shut. "I am suddenly so tired."

"Then go to sleep. I can't fight the drugs much longer anyway. Take a nap with me."

"Ok."

Dean started humming softly, which turned into quiet singing, and Cas let himself drift.

"_There are places I remember…"_

* * *

A bright flash of light startled him out of sleep, and Cas fidgeted slightly to see what it was.

"Sorry, Pops. You guys looked really cute and I wanted to show the girls." David smiled apologetically.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were campaigning this week?"

"I was. But you guys are more important." David sat in a chair next to the bed and ran his fingers through his thick red hair. That gesture would always remind Cas of Sam, and he smiled.

"I'm happy to see you."

"Glad to be here. Starting to wonder what I got myself into."

Squirming, Cas managed to get out of the bed without waking Dean. "What do you mean?" he asked, taking the chair beside David.

"It's a lot of garbage being hurled at me, and much worse then when I was running for the Senate. One of my opponents, who I actually thought was my friend, is using my adoption against me. Because apparently, an adopted son isn't fit to run the country."

"That's ridiculous."

"I know. I'm determined not to let him get to me. I'd be a decent president, I think."

"I know you would," Cas reached over and patted his hand. "Dad and I are so proud of you."

David smiled. "That much I'm sure of. I can't even imagine where I'd be now if not for you two. I'm damn lucky to have had you."

"No, we're the lucky ones. We wanted children so badly, and Dad was determined we were going to help kids who needed help. We're so grateful you came along."

Swiping at his eyes, David grinned. "Glad to be of service." They sat quietly for a moment. "How is he?" David asked. "Is he ok? What happened?"

"We're not really sure. He's going to need to have some tests to try and find out where the dizziness and vertigo are coming from. He's been so good about telling me when something is wrong - anyway, we'll keep an eye on it."

"I worry about you guys, all alone out there in the country. You know I'm going to have to hire you a bodyguard at some point, especially if I make it past the primaries."

"I know. We have a spare room someone could use in that case, and Dean and I are already looking into having a security system set up."

"Privacy fence, too. I need you both safe. If something happened to you and Dad because of me, I'd never forgive myself."

"We'll figure it out."

Dean stirred, mumbled something about _stupid bees _and rolled onto his side, apparently still very much asleep.

"Are you hungry? I could go get you something. I know you're not going to want to leave."

"That would be a nice. A sandwich will do." Cas looked around. "Wait, are you here alone?"

"No, Jack is outside the door and Brian is down in the lobby. Pops - I'm running for president. I'm _never_ alone."

"Ah. Good."

"I'll be back in a bit." David stood and patted Cas's shoulder before leaving the room. Dean snuffled in his sleep at the sound of the door closing, only his spiky gray hair visible above the blanket.

"You terrify me, you know that?" Cas asked Dean's sleeping form. "I'm not ready to live without you. MS or not - don't you get any smart ideas about going early." He slid his chair closer, reaching out and dragging his fingers over the back of Dean's wrinkled hand. "I'm not ready. Stay. Please," he whispered.

"Papa?" Tiana entered the room, a chart in hand. "You ok?" She rested her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm um, I'm fine."

"Ok. Dr. Bradley and I just went over Daddy's chart, and we're both confident the dizziness is just part of the MS. It's a common symptom."

"Is it common for it to cause a loss of balance?"

"It can be. I think getting handicapped bars installed in the bathroom would be a good idea. At least he'd have something to hold on to."

"Good god, do you know how loudly he'll bitch if I do that?"

"Not that loudly. It's a good idea. I don't want to fall again."

"Hi, Daddy. How are you feeling?"

Dean rubbed his eyes and grimaced. "Ow. Shouldn't have done that."

"Need a little something to help?"

"Maybe. I dunno. How 'bout just some ice? I really don't want to zone out on painkillers again."

"I think that can be arranged. We're going to keep you overnight, though. My boss still wants an MRI and CT scan done, ok?"

"Yup. Poke and prod your old man, kiddo."

Tiana smiled. "Not that old."

"Yeah, yeah."

"I'll be back with some ice," she told them as she left.

Cas smiled at Dean. "Are you hungry?"

"A little bit. Did I miss lunch?"

"I think so. David's getting me something from the cafeteria. Want me to ask him to get you something, too?"

"Yeah. See if they have pie."

"Already ahead of you," Cas smiled, texting David.

* * *

Dean sighed and turned his head towards Cas, breathing in the scent of him. He stroked his fingers through his fluffy white hair, feeling comfortably drowsy in the dim hospital room. Cas was warm in his arms, face turned into Dean's neck.

"I'm sorry I terrify you," he said quietly.

"You weren't supposed to hear that. I thought you were sleeping." He snuggled in closer, warm puffs of breath against Dean's neck. "But you do terrify me. I'm not ready to lose you, and today - all I could think was I'd left the house without telling you I love you. What a horrible - if you had -" Cas gulped, and a moment later, warm wetness was seeping through Dean's shirt.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You can't promise that."

"Yeah, well you know what? Neither can you. You think I'm ready to live without you? Fuck, I'd be just like Bobby that year after Ellen died. Lost, miserable -"

"That's what I told the girls I'd be like."

"Ok, that's it. We're dying together."

"Like in _The Notebook_? Or _Thelma and Louise_?

"Gonna hold my hand and sail off that cliff with me, Cas?"

"Are we taking the Impala?"

Dean laughed. "Hell, no! She's too fine to waste like that. We'll steal a car. More fun."

"You know how to steal a car?"

"If we can find an old one somewhere."

"Married thirty years and there's still things I don't know about you." Cas chuckled and kissed Dean's neck. "I love you so much," he whispered. "I'm not ready."

"It's ok. I'm not planning on going anywhere. Not yet. There's still so much I want to do with you. Ok?"

"Yeah."

They lay in silence for awhile, Dean tracing patterns on the arm Cas had slung around his waist.

"We both need an outlet," Dean murmured. "And maybe some more help around the house? We have the money."

"What type of help?"

"I dunno. Janne's pretty amazing…"

"David wants to hire a bodyguard."

"We should let him."

"Hmm."

Silence again. Dean was growing very sleepy. He'd had a busy day, with all the tests he'd had done. Pronounced to be in relative good health, he was given the go ahead to head home in the morning.

"I miss writing."

"Hmm?"

"I miss writing. I miss putting words on the page and weaving stories into existence. I miss creating worlds and characters and being constantly surprised by what they do, who they are. I miss that."

"Is taking care of me preventing you from writing?"

"No - not really. I don't know. I'm tired all the time."

"You are?"

"Yes. Taking care of you isn't hard, but it isn't always easy. I've felt better since Janne joined us. Having her around to cook and help with the chores helps me a lot. But I admit I've considered hiring another person, to do more of the daily cleaning so Janne and I don't have to. I don't know. Is it taking it too far to hire what would basically be a maid?"

"Nope."

"Hmm." Cas slid his hand under Dean's shirt. "So if I start writing, there's my outlet. But what about you? What will you do?"

"I'm gonna make like my little buddy Ben."

"Ben?"

"Yeah. The kid I met the other day. Wheelchair bound with cerebral palsy? Krissy told me he paints all day, everyday. He can't hold a brush because the CB effects his hands. So he fingerpaints. She showed me a couple of his pieces. They're amazingly detailed for a kid his age, and he never uses a single brush. So I was thinking, gonna get me some finger paints and some big ass canvasses and paint. If my hands are shaking, it won't even matter. It'll just be part of the work."

"You never used brushes that much anyway."

"Exactly."

Cas kissed along Dean's neck. "If that makes you happy, I will ensure you have all the canvasses and paint you could possibly need."

"Awesome." Dean turned his head and caught Cas's lips. They traded languid kisses, both of them growing sleepier. "You know I love you, right?" Dean asked softly, eyes drifting shut.

"And I you," Cas affirmed, ending on a yawn.

"Go to sleep, angel," Dean whispered, but he was already there.

* * *

_There are places I remember, all my life, though some have changed._

In northern Maryland, just off of Route 165, two old men share a modern ranch house. It's painted pale blue, and there are pansies and petunias lining the concrete walk. There's an incredible old car sitting in the driveway, looking oddly new although she'd got to be close to eighty. There are no stairs. Neither man likes stairs. Trees fill the back yard, shading a screened in porch from hot afternoon sun. There are beehives, a vegetable garden, and yet more flowers.

_Some forever, not for better, some are gone, and some remain._

The one man is a painter, and had been well known once upon a time. Is still well known, in fact, despite the fact he loudly insists otherwise, and a painting he once did of the Angel of Thursday just sold for triple its original price. His hands shake sometimes now, but he still fills canvasses with angels, his old, gnarled fingers finding their faces in the paint he smears with his hands.

_All these places have their moments, with lovers and friends I still can recall._

The other man is a writer, and he spends his days looking after the painter. In between, he commits words to paper and tends to his bees. He tells the stories of their lives, and the people that lived in them. The gardens are his doing, although the painter helps as much as he can.

_Some are dead, and some are living. In my life, I've loved them all._

The painter and the writer like to take walks around their property on the days that health is good and the weather is fair. They hold hands and smile at each other, quietly discussing their very long lives together. Some days the writer pushes the painter in a wheelchair. They still manage to smile on those days, too. There's a rumor that these two are something special. A book was written about them once.

_But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you._

Their son is the President of the United States. Their oldest daughter is the youngest Head of Neurology in Hopkins' history. Their youngest daughter just made her much lauded New York Gallery debut.

_And these memories lose their meaning, when I think of love as something new._

Their brothers often come to visit, and the four of them stay up too late, talking about the old days, family and friends, and the people in their lives they dearly miss. The painter will slap his much too tall younger brother on the back and call him his childhood nickname, and the writer will attempt to keep his brother from eating too much candy. They'll laugh, they'll cry, and they'll do it all again.

_Though I know I'll never lose affection, for people and things that went before._

But the moments the painter and the writer value the most are the times when they're alone, wrapped around each other in the hammock or in bed, trading slow and lazy kisses and holding each other close. That's when their souls are laid bare, safe in the other's gentle hands. It's when everything is right with the world, where the disease and bad knees are left behind, pushed to the side by the intensity of a love that almost didn't happen.

_I know I'll often stop and think about them. In my life I love you more._

That's the place they call home.

_In my life, I love you more._


End file.
